NEIL CLARK marks the 40th anniversary of James Hunt’s magnificent Japanese Grand Prix performance by reflecting on this much-missed character

It is exactly 40 years ago this weekend since the thrilling climax of what was arguably the greatest sporting duel in history.

I was only 10 at the time but along with millions of other Britons and people around the world, I watched spellbound as James Hunt, driving like a demon, braved heavy rain, fog, spray and water on the track, to finish third in the Japanese Grand Prix and clinch the Formula One world title by one point from his great rival, Austria’s Niki Lauda.

Hunt’s drive was dangerous but also wonderfully heroic. He put his life on the line to achieve glory.

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Even today I can’t watch a re-run of the race without being moved by it. It was an example of sport at its brilliant best. The story of that incredible 1976 Formula One season, which enthralled even those who had no previous interest in motor racing, was told in the 2013 film Rush.

What made the drama so utterly compelling was the fact that the two protagonists were polar opposites. Lauda was serious, methodical and a man who weighed up the risks very carefully.

Hunt was a devil-may-care playboy, who felt the fear but nevertheless pretended not to. Born 30 years earlier he would no doubt have been one of The Few, risking his life to shoot down Messerschmitts and then saying afterwards: “It was no big deal. Now pour me a gin and tonic.”

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The British racing driver leading the field in heavy rain at the Japanese Grand Prix

He was nicknamed Hunt the Shunt because of the number of times he crashed earlier in his career. But when he didn’t come off the track he usually won. There were no half-measures with James.

It was no big deal. Now pour me a gin and tonic

James Hunt

“To hell with safety. All I want to do is race,” he once said. Splendidly unconventional – he took his pet German Shepherd Oscar to dine with him at expensive restaurants, turned up to parties barefoot and later bred budgerigars – Hunt did things sports stars aren’t meant to do and certainly don’t do nowadays.

He drank, he chain-smoked, he went to nightclubs and regularly danced the night away. He loved women and they loved him. He had the words, “Sex: Breakfast of Champions” emblazoned on his overalls.

It is said he slept with no fewer than 33 British Airways stewardesses in the two weeks before his epic performance in Japan.

Even Lauda, his greatest rival, loved Hunt, describing him as an “open, honest-to-God pal”. Am I the only person who regrets the fact that we don’t tend to get sports stars like James Hunt today?

Is it just me or are most of today’s champions, for all their prowess, just a tad boring? Part of the problem is that the sports themselves have become sanitised. We have lost the raw excitement that we used to have. Football pitches, even in the depths of winter, are pristine, making FA Cup shocks much rarer than in the past.

In motor racing, technology has taken over to such an extent that it is the cars and not the drivers which are often the deciding factor.

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Hunt’s drive was dangerous but also wonderfully heroic. He put his life on the line to achieve glory

New safety rules have stopped the Corinthians – like the marvellous Duke of Alburquerque, who used to ride in the Grand National and end up regularly in an ambulance – from competing.

Fears of “saying the wrong thing” have also contributed to the boredom. James Hunt didn’t do politically correct, which made him such an entertaining interviewee when he was driving and a commentator you always wanted to listen to when he retired. He was once asked how he managed to drive so fast despite new car regulations.

“Big b****!” was his reply.

There are lots of words to describe Hunt but “anodyne” is not one of them. Seventeen years after his most famous victory, the hero of Fuji was felled by a heart attack.

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The blonde haired playboy drank, chain-smoked and regularly went to nightclubs

I remember coming out of Ascot races on that June day in 1993 and the shock I felt when I saw the newspaper billboard which declared “James Hunt Dead at 45”.

In retrospect, his premature demise should not have been a surprise.

Can we really imagine a man who lived with his foot pressed down so hard on the accelerator, making old bones?

Since Hunt’s heyday a great deal more money has poured into sport but is it as gripping? The human element is missing. The colourful characters have all but disappeared.

Too many play it safe. Think of the dreadfully dull recent Liverpool versus Man United match and the Euro football championships, when not losing matches seemed more important than winning.

With the stakes so high financially it seems few are prepared to take risks. But Hunt the Shunt took risks, lots of them.

That is why his legend endures. I am sure we will still be remembering the blond-haired playboy in the red overalls in another 40 years time.